Stones
by fen-san
Summary: Nick falls ill and Coach helps him out and lends a listening ear. Ellis and Rochelle play a smaller part in this story.


Disclaimer - none of the characters from L4D2, or the setting belong to me, nor am I making money from this fanfic. Please don't sue me.

A/N - just playing with back-story. Most fics I've read giving Nick backstory tend to make it quite angst-heavy and make him think his childhood was miserable, playing him as a bit of a woobie. I thought I'd take a slightly different tack.

Stones

It had been a matter of time before someone got sick, Coach thought. The constant stress, poor diet and a sudden increase in the amount of hard exercise they were doing was sure to be giving their immune systems a beating. He gave Nick another shake as Rochelle and Ellis washed up and this time Nick gave him a squinty-eyed glare and sat up. 'Hey Nick, time to get up and face some zombies.' Sure he was stating the obvious, but it was better than commenting on how lousy Nick looked.

Nick gave a grumbly noise and coughed again, softly. Nick was pretty pale for a white person anyway, but that morning he was even paler than usual, practically grey, with blue-purple bags under his eyes. 'C'mon Nick.' Coach ended up bribing him with the can of coffee he'd been carrying in his pack after the others had drank theirs in the last store they'd found intact boxes in. Coach just shrugged off the grumbled swearwords and got him up, ignoring the fever - they weren't in a safehouse, just a house they'd managed to barricade themselves inside for the night.

Ellis bounced back into the room as just as Nick stood up and turned to mock Coach for eating both of their shares of breakfast. 'Hey Nick! Didja see upstairs?' The young man drawled Nick's name, giving it two syllables before launching into another of his notorious stories. How that boy had survived to adulthood was a miracle in Coach's mind.

Rochelle was more sedate, a sensible big sister who kept Nick and Ellis from killing each other. She saw Nick's pallid complexion and met Coach's eye, silently agreeing that no, they couldn't afford to stay put, even if Nick was sick. She suggested Ellis help her search for ammo while Coach and Nick checked their weapons. Quietly she suggested they hurry on and try and make good progress while Nick still had some energy from the night's rest, taking advantage of Nick's insistence on fetching the rifles for cleaning. Coach nodded his agreement, then sent her on to restock the ammunition.

They were making good progress, keeping a pretty low profile and making good mileage on foot when Ellis let out a whoop as he beheaded one of the infected that attracted the ire of a Boomer. Coach bit back swears, Rochelle let out a hearty 'dammit' and Nick hoarsely cursed fluently. Coach thought he heard some swearwords in there that weren't even English. Ellis on the other hand whooped a bit more since it was hardly going to make things worse and levelled his rifle.

They were doing well, Rochelle had moved onto her fireaxe, taking care of the infected that the three guys didn't take down quick enough with their guns. The young woman was really getting good at swinging that weapon and the normal infected were no match for her spunk. 'Alright!' Ellis yelled exuberantly as another zombie head exploded thanks to his Desert Eagle. It wasn't the only one that dropped. Coach saw white movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Nick crumple and land face-down in the mud.

Rochelle closed in next to Coach, the pair of them protecting Nick between them while Ellis went on another of his 'badass zombie killin' sprees'. They might tease him for his hyperbole and hyperactivity, but Ellis was a good kid and an important part of the ersatz lil' family they'd built, Rochelle thought. Coach was the big brother, protective and wise, even if he hadn't got her book-smarts. She was big sister. Nick was the middle brother, always teasing their little brother Ellis, but despite their squabbling they cared for each other deep down. Even if Nick was an asshole.

After they'd got themselves a clear patch Coach pulled Nick up to his feet, brought him 'round with a couple of gentle slaps in the face and got him moving. 'Hey good buddy, y'alright?' Ellis asked, slinging his samurai sword over his shoulder and adjusting his cap.

'Sure, peachy.' Nick growled, Coach holding him upright with one arm slung around his shoulders, his free hand dangling by his side holding a pistol. Coach knew the gambler would have been ruder if his voice hadn't given out, but he started walking, forcing Nick could come along with him, leaving Ellis and Rochelle to pick off the infected before they got too close.

The next safehouse couldn't come too quick for Rochelle. Holding her hunting rifle up at ready position all the way there made her arms hurt like Hell and having two team members pretty much outta action made things scarier than usual. Fortunately they'd taken out a butt-load of them infected bastards so the journey there wasn't too bad. Coach dumped Nick on the broken-backed sofa, he'd apparently passed out cold at some point, and then she worked on securing the place and Coach and Ellis worked on firing up the stove to get them a proper cooked meal for the first time in days.

The kitchen didn't have much in the way of supplies, but one of the previous survivors to pass through had left a map showing the nearest food store that still had any edibles in it, so after a rest Coach stood up. 'Hey Ellis, you come with me an' get us some more food from the store. Rochelle, couldja keep a look-out here and look after Nick?'

Ro glanced over the back of the couch to check on Nick, who was still out cold. 'Sure thing guys. see if they've got any more soap or socks willya? My socks are nearly all holes.'

The two guys nodded and left with promises to bring back the best stuff there and the headed off, the door key in Coach's pocket.

Rochelle walked around the place, double-checking everything was secure before she made herself a mug of coffee, sure it was Folgers crystals and not the real stuff, but even instant was heavenly after weeks of doing without. She checked the cupboard marked with the red cross to see if there was anything that could help Nick. She was no doctor, but he was running a fever and seemed to be aching, so a couple Tylenol wouldn't do him any harm.

She padded through with the pills and a glass of water and perched on the edge of the couch to shake Nick awake. It took longer than she expected, which worried her even more. Sleepy green eyes stared up at her as he frowned in confusion. 'Hey Nick, I thought ya might want some pills to help you get better.'

As Ellis and Coach got back to the safehouse they heard yelling and thuds on the other side of the door. Coach opened it up as fast as he could and burst through, ready to take down some zombie bastards with Ellis. What he actually saw was Nick scrunched up in the corner flailing and yelling nonsense at Rochelle who was kneeling next to him, pills in hand pleading with him to take them, looking dishevelled.

'Hey Ro', we're back and we got some good food.'

'Yeah, real good!' Ellis chimed in as Coach shut and secured the safehouse door. Coach spoke up before the youngster hit his stride.

'Take the stuff through to the kitchen and sort things out willya? I'll keep an eye on Nick. Ellis, you said you could fix that stove up even better?' He took the tablets from Rochelle and calmed her down with a gentle touch to her shoulder, easily redirecting Ellis' energy.

Gradually Nick relaxed as Coach just sat on the coach and the con-man gradually pushed himself upright and went to sit on the couch next to him. 'You wanna explain what just happened, kid?'

Nick accepted the blanket Rochelle brought in and draped it about his shoulders. Ro smiled maternally, but left before she set him off again or pissed him off, sick or not, Nick was still kind of an asshole. Ellis peeked through the door adjoining the lounge Nick and Coach were in next to the kitchen-diner Ro and Ellis had holed up in to stay outta the way. At Coach's nod he brought in steaming mugs, managing to keep his mouth shut the whole time.

At last they were left alone again and Nick sipped what turned out to be some godawful herbal bullshit insteada proper coffee. 'Okay, you listen up good, Coach. I'm only saying this one time.' Coach sat up, sensing Nick was serious about whatever it was he was going to say. Nick's words slurred into each other a little before he hit his stride.

'I grew up on the move with Lainey, my mom. Now Lainey was a whore.' Nick caught Coach's horrified and offended expression and coughed irritably. 'She wuz a whore in the sense people paid her to have sex with them, she had me 'fore she got old and smart enough ta abort when she got knocked up. I kinda tagged along after her, makin' a few bucks however I could since she was either working or strung out or gambling all her cash away. It started out with picking pockets, conning people with find the lady, begging, whatever. I was prolly five when I got sick, real sick.'

Nick had another sip from his mug, staring off into the distance as he remembered a time long past. 'I was laid up in bed, cutting into Lainey's profits taking up the bed she used for her job so she gave me a coupla her pills - one a her Vicodin and one a her Valium. Even if it wuz half what she took half what's safe for a hardened twenty year old to take ain't exactly ideal fer a runty five-year-old.' Coach felt vaguely sick, but Nick just gave him a wintry little smile. He was used to his past, didn't think anything of it.

Nick soothed his raw throat with another gulp of the herbal tea, it was starting to taste a bit less gross and he gave another cough. His cheeks were red against the dead white of his face and the second cough in the pause rattled in his chest. Coach tried not to worry.

'I guess Lainey panicked, 'cus I woke up a week later with Dr Nick the struck off 'bortionist Lainey used when she got knocked up looking down at me an' a jury rigged drip stuck in my arm.' Nick chuckled, 'Man, Lainey was so mad at missing a whole week a' work. Shit, I'd almost forgotten about that.' He shook his head, laughing some more with a look on his face of fond recollection of old times. 'Right up 'til Ro came at me with those goddamn' pills I hadn't thought about that in years.'

Coach realised he was staring at the younger man, his mouth hangin' open like he wuz an old bullfrog. He shut his mouth and blinked. No wonder Nick had the morals of a damn' alleycat, the guy practically was one God made into a man. 'Jesus H Christ, kid, you gotta know that ain't right.'

'It happened. No use in getting yer panties in a bunch about it, Coach. I told you to get you to shut yer damn' yap about it, you don't got the right all of a sudden to talk smack about Lainey, just 'cus she ain't a Jesus-Freak.'

Coach held his hands up peaceably, trying to change his expression of shock and horror into something Nick wouldn't get mad at seeing on his face. The guy looked ready to jump up and pound him and Coach sighed. 'Hey man, I ain't tellin' anyone anythin', 'specially not how to live their lives.' He paused as a Bible verse drifted to the forefront of his mind. 'After all, let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'

There was no answer. Coach looked down to the semi-broken couch to see that Nick had passed clean out again. His breath rasped nastily every time he breathed in, but he was safe and sleeping on something that wasn't the cold hard ground. Ellis sauntered in grinning, 'Yo, Coach! They got weenie dawgs in thuh kitchen an' me an' Ro got us a fully workin' stove!'

Coach mentally shoved his frame of mind into a one-eighty spin and forced a grin. 'Sounds like it's time I showed you my Mama's weenie dog recipe!' He heaved himself up onto his feet and shambled into the kitchen grinning like he normally did when faced with the prospect of a good meal. Did any of this really change things? Hell, he wasn't gonna say anything and in a few day Nick'd heal and start bein' his usual asshole self, but he'd trusted Coach with that story, a little piece of the real him under that fake suit and all that front.

Under ordinary circumstances Coach honestly admitted to himself he wouldn't even have spit on Nick 'less he was on fire, but now he placed his life in the other man's hands on a regular basis. Nick hadn't let him down on that count yet. His smile finally softened into something realler as he opened the can of weenies and another Bible verse from the book of Matthew drifted into his head. 'Wherefore by their fruits shall ye know them.


End file.
